


Alive and Breathing

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Community: spnkink_meme, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's alive, Sam just has to remember that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive and Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kink prompt: Some time during season 4/5, Sam has a nightmare of the night Dean was dragged to Hell. When he wakes up, Dean's sleeping peacefully next to him, and Sam cuddles close for reassurance that his brother's there now, alive and breathing and safe (or as close to it as they get, anyway). The movement wakes Dean up, and when he works out what's happened, he encourages Sam to do more than just cuddle him, to kiss and touch and fuck him, all the while telling him he's okay, they're okay, he's not leaving him etc. Also for the LJ kinkbingo square of "first time".
> 
> Supernatural does not belong to me. This piece of fiction was written for entertainment purposes only, no profit is gained.

At first, Sam doesn't remember what he dreamt about, but he wakes up sweating and breathing hard so he knows it couldn't have been pleasant. It's only after he rolls over and sees Dean there, breathing deeply with his face pressed against the pillow like always, does everything come rushing back.

He's managed to forget about it during the day, but now it's just as vivid as the night it happened. What hurts the most, what makes everything worse, is that he can't tell if it's memories or dreams. He sees Dean being ripped apart by the hell hounds again, the blood from long, long claw-marks shredding his skin, his whole body.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and moves closer to Dean, wrapping an arm around his waist.  _This_ is Dean. The one right here, right now. Alive, breathing,  _whole_. The one Sam can look at and touch and smell the vague scent of cheap motel soap and beer on the skin of. He shifts even closer, and his hand brushes against the small protrusion of Dean's hipbone.

“Sam?” Dean murmurs into his pillow, his eyes opening to a squint.  
  
There's the temptation to consider feigning sleep, but Sam finds himself lowering his face into the crook of Dean's neck instead, breathing in more of the soap and booze. He bites down on his lip, holds his breath, and repeats over and over  _alive, alive, alive_.  
  
"Sam? s'matter?"  
  
Dean's pulling him away and Sam doesn't want that. He  _clings_ , really fucking  _clings_ , to stay pressed against Dean and Dean becomes still, before he whispers, "s'okay."  
  
Sam sighs and his hand goes back to rubbing against Dean's hip in slow, circular motions. It's not long before he feels Dean's own hand wandering, trailing up under his shirt and his warm fingers splaying against the skin. Sam's pulled closer, and he relishes in it, letting out another sigh. This he can do. Not hunting, not fearing, not preparing for that moment Dean gets pulled back under.  _Safe_.  
  
"Yeah, Sammy, safe."  
  
Did he say that out loud?  
  
Hands come up to his face and cup over the cheeks, encouraging Sam away from his neck and making him look at Dean eye to eye. There's just enough light in the room to make it possible, and Sam can see Dean's eyes coated in shadows. He's worried, like he always is when Sam's upset. Cause and effect, just between the two of them.  
  
The soft touch of Dean's lips is felt before Sam's mind tells him what's happened. He must look utterly confused, or petrified - perhaps both - because Dean lets out a light chuckle. "What?" he asks. "Not like either of us are good at subtle."  
  
 _Yeah_. Sam agrees. Mostly he just wants to kiss Dean again, to hold on this time to know what every touch feels like. Because Dean's right, they're not subtle, and Sam hasn't been able to hide this. He traces his thumb over Dean's lower lip until Dean nods at him. "s'okay," Dean says like before, but this time it has context.  
  
He's just as slow and soft when he kisses Dean. He takes just the upper lip, resting it gently between both of his his. Dean makes a small sound in the back of his throat, completely out of character and perfectly adorable, and it just spurs Sam on, leading him to slip his tongue between the gap and drawing a harsh intake of breath that just sounds louder in the otherwise silent, empty room.  
  
When they break apart, Dean's pressing their foreheads together. Warm and solid. "D'you have a nightmare?" he asks. Sam says nothing, but Dean already knows. "'m here, Sam."  
  
"I know."  
  
"'m not leaving you."  
  
"I know."  
  
There's a little growl that comes from Dean's throat, the sound of frustration Sam's learnt over the years. Sam tries to kiss it away, never tiring of the feel of Dean's lips meshing against his. Like it's somehow perfect, despite everything.   
  
Like this is what they've been waiting for since Heaven. Since being told they're soul mates and Sam's stomach flip-flopped so bad he was sure he was about to confess - or throw up.  
  
"Hey, you wanna....?" He trails off, but his eyes, all vibrant green, dancing and alight  _(alive)_ tell Sam everything he needs to know. His heart lurches, beating wearily against his chest and he probably resembles the fish-outta-water face right about now. Dean just smiles at him. "Yeah?"  
  
He doesn't control the nod. "Yeah." Or his voice.  
  
Dean gently pushes him away, rolling his body over Sam's in the process. Warm and solid and everything Sam's ever wanted, ever since he can remember, right there. He watches Dean cross the floor, does it in a way just like he does everything else - with purpose, with confidence, like he owns the whole fucking room - and Sam's just in awe, his mouth growing dry.  
  
When Dean turns back around he's holding a small bottle just like Sam knew he would be, but speculative knowledge and real, solid evidence are two very different things, and Sam's breath hitches in his throat.   
  
Dean ditches the boxers right then and there, kicking the shorts from out under his feet with one step closer to Sam. It's too dark to really make anything out, but there's enough moonlight to catch Dean's silhouette, and he's fucking breathtaking.  
  
Not like Sam didn't know that already.  
  
Dean's back at the bed and he presses the bottle of lube into Sam's hand, squeezing his fingers gently closed over the plastic.  
  
"You want me to --?"  
  
Dean nods.  
  
"Have you ever --?"  
  
Dean shakes his head.  
  
The hitched breath in Sam's throat grows tighter, and he's not sure he can go through with this. He's never even slept with an inexperienced woman, how's he gonna sleep with a guy - with his  _brother_ \- when he's never done it himself?   
  
But Dean seems to have faith in him, with the way he's looking, eyes warm and inviting, and this look skates across his face. The same look Sam's turned to all his life for reassurance, and he's always found it. No matter what.  
  
He takes a breath and doesn't lose eye contact when he flicks open the lid of the tube, letting cold liquid out onto his fingers. Dean gives a tiny smile, more reassurance, and moves his leg over Sam's hip.   
  
They're even closer, closer than they've ever been, and Sam kisses Dean again. More speed this time, more tongue, but just as meaningful. It clears Sam's mind enough for him to reach down blindly and brush his sticky fingertips over Dean.  
  
The whole thing is slow, gentle, just like the rest of this night from the moment Dean woke up. He pushes into Dean with hesitance, but Dean just has this perpetual smile on his face, like he's always been prepared and nothing -  _nothing_ \- Sam would do could ever hurt him.   
  
He moves in him for hours, holding off and making Dean groan in frustration each and every time he's so close, so sure. They laugh. Real, honest laughter that's been missing in their lives for so long. Crazy how this is the thing that finally allows them to let go.  
  
Eventually Sam captures Dean's mouth and moves with short, sharp thrusts. Dean gasps into his mouth as he releases and Sam follows hardly a moment later.   
  
They come down slowly, together, with Sam keeping up the soft caresses and kisses he traces over Dean's warm, sated body while Dean runs his hands through Sam's hair and whispers nonsense words into his ears. All eternal endearments and promises of  _"i'm here"_ and  _"love you"_ and " _not going anywhere"_. They comfort Sam in a way he never thought possible.  
  
The last words Sam hears before he falls into a restless, dreamless sleep are the whispers of "We're okay" and he thinks, maybe, that's finally the truth.


End file.
